


where the love-light gleams

by dicaeopolis



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (of sorts), (the magical equivalent), Agender Akaashi Keiji, Agender Character, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, M/M, Multi, Online Friendship, Original Character - Rug, Other, Polyamory, Trans Bokuto Koutarou, Trans Male Character, good vibes, title is from I'll Be Home For Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 14:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9076681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicaeopolis/pseuds/dicaeopolis
Summary: It's a snowy Christmas eve when Bokuto and Akaashi go to visit Kuroo for the first time.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [decidueye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/decidueye/gifts).
  * Inspired by [goatflowers; mustard; sage; an eyeball](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7768096) by [decidueye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/decidueye/pseuds/decidueye), [keptein](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keptein/pseuds/keptein). 



> MERRY SHITSCRAM TAWNI!! here's your secret santa fic I KIND OF DID ALL YOUR PROMPTS AT ONCE I HOPE YOU LIKE IT. this isn't a direct sequel to potion seller, but it's definitely inspired by it, so you should all go read that as soon as you're done with this one.
> 
> akaashi's shop is loosely inspired by [this one occult store](https://www.google.com/search?q=the+holy+rose+raleigh+nc&espv=2&biw=1536&bih=735&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjcjPqT1Y7RAhVrx1QKHbZ_BKcQ_AUICSgE) we found in the middle of an eight-hour drive halfway through a road trip last summer. they had a shop cat called Lord Bastion. the man at the counter was wearing a kingdom hearts shirt. i'm still not sure the place was real.
> 
> thanks to:  
> -sophia, for suggesting how Bokuto would name the rug,  
> -kep, for drunkenly listening to me ramble about this fic on line that one time,  
> -nat, whose fashion sense/general urban witch vibe defs inspired akaashi in this (and who is just generally wonderful),  
> -betsy, for betaing (i love u)
> 
> reblog/RT on [tumblr](http://vivasimplemindedness.tumblr.com/post/155013502418/where-the-love-light-gleams) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/dickaeopolis/status/813641534109257728)!!! (and/or just come talk to me about bkakkr)

_ December 24th, 6:30 A.M. _

Akaashi wasn’t generally a morning person, but they’d gotten used to rising early since they moved to the city a few centuries ago. Customers often came through their shop in the first light of dawn - grouchy little fairies looking for a pick-me-up, vampires seeking out a nightcap before they slept the day away, werewolves on the way to work stocking up on the potions that’d allow them to stay human under the full moon that night.

And so, when dawn through the skylight tugged Akaashi into wakefulness, they pulled themself up with only a hint of resigned annoyance at the hour. They slept in the loft over their back room these days, a space small enough that they never even bothered with a proper bed, instead just spreading blankets and cushions and pillows across the floor into a snug, warm nest. It was no pleasure to leave, but Akaashi extracted themself and half-slid down the ladder. The back room was small, but cozy - an old wardrobe pressed up against the oak table, two chairs pushed in under it, a tiny kitchenette on the other side of the room.

Akaashi headed for the wardrobe first. Their steps creaked across the floorboards under the deep maroon carpet, and there was a low coo from the corner. The noise had disturbed the huge great horned owl perched on the roost next to the wardrobe. After Akaashi pulled on their clothing - a baggy black tunic, slim dark jeans, a thin silver necklace, enough bangles on their wrists to jangle together as they walked - they padded over to the owl and raised a hand to stroke the short feathers on the top of the bird’s head.

The owl hooted softly, and then, in a flurry of feathers and light, there was a full-sized human man blinking under Akaashi’s hand, with wide golden eyes and wild black-and-white hair not quite so different from the owl he’d been seconds ago.

Akaashi smiled down at him. “Good morning, Bokuto.”

“Mornin’, Keiji!”

Akaashi averted their eyes while Bokuto pattered over to the wardrobe and tugged on a pair of pants. He went barefoot, as always - Bokuto’s transformations tended to either destroy clothing or be severely hindered by it. Meanwhile, Akaashi picked up the small leather-bound book resting on the counter.

As Bokuto rattled around in the cabinets for food, Akaashi flipped the book open to the latest page, carefully smoothing their fingers over the velum. Sure enough, there were a few lines inscribed from earlier that morning, in familiar deep-red ink.

_ gooooooood morning  
_ _ im excited for today _

After that, there was a doodle of a cat with a mop of bangs hanging over its right eye, and a 3 drawn in for its mouth.

Akaashi had thought, when the book they had bought from Yukie for writing potion recipes had first started writing back to them, that maybe the person with the red ink had been a shifter like Bokuto, since they took so much delight in drawing themself in feline form. But then, Kuroo had introduced himself, and explained that he was an elemental living in the north. His version of the book had been a gift from his old mentor, and he had been just as surprised as Akaashi when the pages started generating text on their own.

(When Akaashi finally asked what was going on with all the cats, Kuroo had evaded the question for a bit before finally admitting "i just think they're neat".)

Akaashi picked a black pen out of the drawer under the counter to write back - a system they had developed quickly, to avoid confusion over who said what.

**_Good morning._ **

The red text wrote back almost immediately - Kuroo must have been waiting.

_ merry christmas eve _

As Akaashi watched, a quick sketch of Kuroo's favorite cat, this time with a Santa hat draped rakishly over one ear, materialized on the page below his message. They smiled despite themself, and then wrote:

**_Yes, Christmas, as they call it these days._ **

_ cmon you geezer I was born like 1500 years after Saturnalia stopped being a thing _

**_Ah, youth._ **

_ you gonna hex me, keiji? _

**_Hexes are morally wrong and frowned upon by the greater magical community.  
_ _Also, I don’t know if I can hex someone through a book._ **

_ so i can get on your nerves all i like _

**_Don’t test me, Kuroo._ **

_ haha you know I will  
_ _ what time are you getting here today? _

**_Probably late.  
_ _We're leaving around five._ **

"Are you talking to Kuroo?" echoed Bokuto's voice from where his head was stuck inside a cabinet. “Tell him I say good morning!”

“Tell him yourself." Akaashi handed the little book over to Bokuto, who removed himself from the cabinet with an armful of pastries and rummaged around in the drawer for his choice of blue pen. "Are you really that hungry?"

Bokuto sulked at them. "Hey, I was out  _ all night, _ you know. Cause they needed me to hunt down this one rogue ghoul. They didn't give me any food."

"You could’ve just gone hunting," Akaashi pointed out.

"Well, I  _ did," _ Bokuto explained, "that's why they didn't give me any food. But that was my  _ owl _ stomach. This is my  _ human _ stomach."

Akaashi rolled their eyes. "You're just a glutton."

"I'm a  _ hungry _ glutton!" He shoved an entire croissaint into his mouth to drive his point home.

"Well," said Akaashi, "yes."

Fortunately, Bokuto was too absorbed in scribbling down notes to Kuroo to notice when Akaashi snuck one, or maybe two, sourdough rolls out of his arms and began to spread butter across them for their own breakfast.

When they finished eating, Bokuto was smiling down at the book at something Kuroo had said. Akaashi ducked under his arm to pluck the notebook out of Bokuto's hands and drop it into the pocket of their tunic. They leaned briefly against Bokuto’s broad chest, pretending they didn’t notice how Bokuto practically started vibrating with excitement at the contact, and then stood up straight.

“Alright, it’s time to open up.”

Akaashi’s shop was a narrow little building squeezed in between two taller ones. If you asked a human who had passed it once, they would remember seeing the place, but wouldn't be able to tell you exactly  _ where. _ And if, from the other side of the street, you asked them  _ what's that place across the way, _ their eyes would skitter from one neighboring building to the next before they turned to you and asked  _ what place are you talking about again. _ The storefront had two windows, with dusty displays of potion ingredients and cauldron sales that Akaashi hadn't bothered changing in a hundred years or so.

Inside, the ceiling was low and the wooden floorboards warped. The shelves leaned up into the rafters, stacked with jars of eyeballs jumbled together with satchels of herbs and stacks of cauldrons and tiny bottles of glittery dust. Scattered lanterns hung from the ceiling, glowing with the light of tiny fairies who sat with their legs dangling out the open doors. As you wound your way through, you wouldn't really notice just how deep the room seemed to go until suddenly you swerved around a tall case of crystals and there was a counter nestled into the back corner, with a high stool behind it, a mortar and pestle and a cluster of empty jars on the clouded glass top, a old wooden box filled with tarnished pieces of silver and gold and copper. Above the counter, a shelf was filled with a set of mason jars packed snug with a knotty green-brown herb.

That was where Akaashi sat now, as Bokuto wandered around the shop checking for mismatched bottles and herbs that had gone bad. Usually, he crashed out of exhaustion sometime around noon, and then slept the day away until the Department of Magical Affairs needed him on duty again that night. Today, Akaashi would herd him up to bed for a nap mid-morning, so that they could leave that afternoon. In the meantime, Akaashi listened for the jingle at the front of the shop that told them the door had opened, and settled quickly into the rhythm of exchanging their potions for any and all coin, greeting regular customers by name and inclining their head politely towards new ones.

Once the morning rush subsided, Akaashi surreptitiously pulled the notebook out of the pocket of their tunic - slightly embarrassed at their own eagerness, but gratified when they saw that there was, indeed, a new line of red script in the book. And, for once, Kuroo had bothered to add capital letters and punctuation in his words.

_ I'll keep the hearth warm. _

* * *

_ December 24th, 4:20 P.M. _

The sun had only just set when Akaashi gave Bokuto the go-ahead to close up shop. Bokuto had been wriggling with excitement for the past hour and a half since he woke up, which provided Akaashi a convenient cover for their own growing anticipation.

As Bokuto locked the front door and flipped the sign to CLOSED, Akaashi headed into the back to dig their traveling cloak out of the wardrobe. They shrugged the long garment over their shoulders, leaving the hood down for now.

"Dress for wind," they told Bokuto as he thumped into the back room. "You don't want to get cold." Not that it would make much of a difference to him. Akaashi had once wondered if their boyfriend was so warm because he was a shifter - but then, none of the other shifters they had ever met shared Bokuto's high body temperature. Honestly, it was probably just Bokuto.

"Okay," said Bokuto, and strode over to the wardrobe. "Why? Is it really windy in the north?"

Akaashi shook their head. "Not that I know of. It's just for travel. Here, take your gray cloak, the short one. And wool socks, for your boots."

"Kay," Bokuto agreed. "How are we travelling, then? I know we aren't walking -  _ wait." _

Akaashi glanced over at him. "Yes?"

"You have a _broomstick,_ don’t you," Bokuto gasped, eyes huge. "We're going on a _broomstick_ \- oh my _god-"_

"Bokuto-"

“You can  _ fly,” _ he continued, voice low and urgent. “You have a  _ broomstick _ \- you’ve been hiding a  _ broomstick _ from me all these centuries-”

“No, Bokuto,” they said.

“You - you don’t have a broomstick?”

“I don’t have a broomstick.”

“Oh.” Bokuto drooped.

“Don’t worry about it,” Akaashi told him. “In the meantime, can you help me move the kitchen table so we can pick up the carpet?”

“What - you want to vacuum Marpet  _ now? _ We don’t have that much time before we have to leave, but okay-”

Bokuto helped Akaashi move the table and pull up Marpet from underneath it, the deep maroon-patterned carpet that tended to shift around the back room on its own and wriggle in delight when Akaashi vacuumed it. Bokuto, being Bokuto, had found out that Akaashi owned a magic carpet and immediately dubbed it  _ Marpet. _ Akaashi had been too taken aback to veto the name before it stuck.

Akaashi directed Bokuto to carry the carpet out onto the narrow stretch of roof next to the loft, and then handed their bags up and onto it. It was only when they sat down on the center of Marpet’s faded pattern and gestured for Bokuto to sit next to them that it clicked.

Specifically, it happened when Bokuto was standing with one leg out of the loft window. He gasped loudly, nearly toppled backwards into the loft, and caught himself on the windowframe, eyes huge.

_ “Marpet can fly!” _

“Yes,” Akaashi said.

_ “We’re flying to Kuroo’s place on Marpet!” _

“Yes,” Akaashi said.

Bokuto boggled at them.

Akaashi allowed themself a rare smile. They patted the rug next to them. “Bokuto, come sit.”

Bokuto came and sat.

He was still petting Marpet in wonder as the magic carpet rose into the sky and swooped off north.

* * *

_ December 24th, 8:08 P.M. _

Dusk had cloaked them over the city, and full darkness had settled by the time Akaashi and Bokuto’s carpet soared out into the cold wind over the postage-stamp countryside. They had talked for a while, mostly Bokuto hypothesizing wildly about what Kuroo’s house looked like and what Kuroo's cats looked like and what  _ Kuroo himself _ looked like, and Akaashi reminding him that Kuroo had in fact sent a picture of himself with his letter in Bokuto's birthday gift earlier that year; he really looked just like his cat doodles. After that, they had shared the basket of food Akaashi had packed earlier that day. Akaashi attempted to subtly tuck themself into Bokuto's side for warmth as they ate, and Bokuto, of course, wrapped his arm tight around their shoulders as soon as he noticed.

Now, Akaashi was wrapped up in their cloak, watching the nighttime countryside roll by beneath them. Next to them, Bokuto was scrawling in the notebook, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth. The end of the pen waved around energetically.

Although Bokuto and Kuroo never attempted to hide their conversations in the book, Akaashi had long given up on reading them. They tended to be rather… Nonsensical. Long strings of “hey” “HEY” “heyy” “HEYY” and so on. Kuroo setting up jokes and riddles that Bokuto responded to with puzzlingly bizarre punchlines and answers, with which Kuroo happily agreed. Pages filled with sketches of creatures with one part drawn on in red and another in blue, until the creature looked more like something Akaashi would deem  _ zoologically improbable and/or terrifying to small children _ than realistic. And so on and so forth.

Nevertheless, they asked, “How’s Kuroo?”

“He’s excited!” Bokuto announced, without looking up from the page. Then his brows knotted into a frown. “Darn it, I wrote that as I was saying it - oh, shit, I’m still doing it - Kuroo wants to know what makes me think he’s excited, but I think he’s just teasing me because it's obvious when he keeps drawing so many cat faces in here-" He cut himself off, and Akaashi leaned over to see what the undoubtedly-indignant red text was writing in response.

Unfortunately, it was far too dark for Akaashi to make out the words. “How can you even read that?”

Bokuto turned to stare at them, wide golden eyes quizzical and owlish, and Akaashi sighed. “Right.”

* * *

_ December 24th, 8:48 P.M. _

Bokuto had finally closed the book a little while ago, and curled up on Marpet, head resting in Akaashi’s lap. But Akaashi could tell he wasn’t asleep - his breathing wasn’t slow enough, and his eyes were still open, watching the night sky. As they’d flown north, the ground grew rockier and bumpier until mountains began to loom like dark sentinels in the distance, and the sky grew clearer and the stars brighter overhead. When Akaashi looked over the edge of the carpet, they were surprised to see pristine white snow spread in a thick, soft blanket over the hills.

“Keiji,” Bokuto murmured, quieter than usual but wide awake, and Akaashi waited for him to continue. “We’re almost out of space in the book.”

Akaashi didn’t respond, and Bokuto turned to look up at them. “We’re on the last page, actually. Me and Kuroo wanted to draw a bunch of monsters tonight.”

“Of course you did,” Akaashi deadpanned.

“There’s only the back of the last page and the back cover left. I asked Kuroo and he said his is the same.” Bokuto waited, but when Akaashi stayed silent, he went on, “Keiji, can you make another pair of books? Do you know any magic spells or anything for that?”

“No,” Akaashi said. “No, I don’t.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“We’re almost to Kuroo’s place,” Akaashi told him. They shifted over to the front of Marpet, ready to direct it down towards the ground. Bokuto hummed with anxiety, but let it drop.

Kuroo had told Akaashi that the house was nearly impossible to miss - he’d built the place in the foothills of the now-towering mountains, with no neighbors for miles, so he could practice his elemental magic unhindered. Sure enough, when Marpet soared over the road snaking out of the only village around, the road ended at a tiny cabin, logs silvery in the snowlight, with smoke curling out of the chimney and gleaming white snow blanketing the roof and the windows glowing with firelight. And there was a tall figure out front, head tilted back to watch the carpet circle down from the sky.

Marpet settled down onto the ground, and Bokuto and Akaashi both stumbled off, boots crunching in the snow. And for the first few seconds, Akaashi just stared at him.

None of them were short, but Kuroo had an inch or so even on Bokuto. He was lean, even in his bulky jacket, and the knitted cap pulled over his hair didn’t hide that it was just as messy as in his photograph. His cheeks were bright with the cold, his honey-golden eyes bright with nervous anticipation.

Then Bokuto howled with delight and threw himself forward to wrap Kuroo in a bear hug. Kuroo gasped as Bokuto’s grip knocked the wind out of him. “Hey now-” His voice was low, breathless, affection woven into his amusement. He recovered his balance and hugged Bokuto tightly back.

When Bokuto released him, he turned towards Akaashi and enveloped them in a sudden hug that smelled like woodsmoke and eggnog and snow. Akaashi stood frozen for a moment, and then their arms rose to hug back. They buried their face into the crook of Kuroo’s neck, ignoring the cold fabric of his coat against their cheek - then suddenly Kuroo  _ oof _ ’ed, and the pair of them staggered sideways in the snow as Bokuto hurled himself into another hug, squeezing the other two even tighter.

“You’re no weakling, huh, big guy?” Kuroo managed. His chuckle above Akaashi’s head was shaky with exhilaration, and he shifted around in Bokuto’s grip to rub their chilly noses together.

“I’m very strong!” Bokuto announced, seeming incredibly pleased with himself.

When Bokuto finally released them, Kuroo patted down his messy hair (to no avail whatsoever), let out a huge, happy sigh, and then turned towards the door. “Come in, come in.” He glanced back to wink at Akaashi, and their chest jumped embarrassingly. “I kept the hearth warm.”

* * *

_ December 25th, 11:02 A.M. _

Kuroo was frustratingly good at cooking.

He’d made them thick French toast for a late-morning Christmas breakfast, dripping with butter and apple-syrup and the smell of cinnamon. They ate that in their pajamas, Akaashi with their legs tucked under them in Kuroo’s overstuffed armchair, and Bokuto and Kuroo alternately snuggling together as close as humanly possible and wrestling out of sheer overwhelming delight on Marpet - which had been spread out to warm up in front of the fire the previous night. 

As soon as the three of them finished up eating, Kuroo poked his head up from where Bokuto had him in a headlock to grin over at Akaashi. “Hey, Keiji, come over and join us.”

Bokuto yelled a little in agreement, but Akaashi shook their head. “No, you’re both sticky, and you still have morning breath-”

They cut themselves off with a choked noise of protest as two tall bodies wrapped themselves around theirs like a pair of mischievous octopi, and lifted them out of the chair as though they weighed nothing. Akaashi’s protests went totally unheeded as Kuroo sat down, and then Bokuto whined in protest and attempted to squish himself into the armchair next to him, and then Kuroo made some dubiously-flattering comments about the size of Bokuto’s behind and squirmed around to sprawl out shamelessly over Bokuto. Akaashi seated on his lap, was ruffled and thoroughly flummoxed.

And yet, even though Akaashi turned their head to hide it, they couldn’t stop themself from smiling at the whole affair. Kuroo had been fidgety with nervous energy when they’d first arrived last night, but over the course of the evening, Akaashi had watched him grow accustomed to existing around them, and his familiar sense of snark and rambly tone had slowly matched up with his crooked grin, his terrible bedhead, his long limbs and quick hands. In retrospect, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that Kuroo adjusted so quickly - after all, Bokuto was forever loud and boisterous in blissful obliviousness to any situational tension, and Akaashi didn’t have to stretch their emotional capacity to exhibit their usual quiet, dry wit that Kuroo knew well.

After Bokuto got fidgety and stood up, unceremoniously dumping his two companions onto the floor of the tiny living room, he caught a glimpse of the unusually bright light through the window and went over to investigate - and then suddenly yelled in excitement. 

“Guys, it  _ snowed!” _

“There was already snow, Bokuto,” Akaashi pointed out, sounding vaguely strangled from where Kuroo had taken advantage of the situation to go limp and surprisingly heavy on top of their feebly twitching body.

“Yeah, but it snowed  _ more!” _ Bokuto bounced on the balls of his toes. “Like, it’s up to the windows here! We have to go out in it!”

Akaashi made an unenthusiastic noise, and Kuroo made no move to get up off the floor either, but…

Neither of them could ever really say no to Bokuto.

And so, a few minutes later found Akaashi and Kuroo digging through Akaashi’s travel bag and Kuroo’s closet for mittens, scarves, hats, coats. Bokuto, meanwhile, tugged on his boots and a t-shirt, and then hopped from foot to foot by the door, waiting for the other two to be ready.

Kuroo, who was sitting on the floor and carefully winding his scarf around his neck, quirked an eyebrow up at him. “Aren’t you going to put on more clothing?”

Bokuto looked at him quizzically. “Why?”

“I-” Kuroo was taken aback, and during his half-second of silence, Bokuto wandered over to the window next to the door, pressing his face to the glass and breathing noisily onto it so he could draw a smiley face in the fog on the glass. Instead of pressing the matter, Kuroo just turned to Akaashi and mouthed a helpless question at them.  _ Is he always like this? _

Akaashi nodded, fervently.

Outside, the snow reached above Akaashi’s knees, and they squinted against the sudden brightness of the clear, cold sunlight bouncing off pure white. Bokuto forged ahead to break the path, while Kuroo and Akaashi strolled side by side behind him. Here and there, Kuroo paused, calling Bokuto back to show him where you could suck on ice-coated brush that tasted like birch, where the winter-white hares had their burrows, where a fisher-cat had left tracks across the surface of the fresh snow.

From Kuroo’s front door, the fields had seemed to go on forever, but it was surprisingly soon that they made their way into the hills and began to find scattered trees weighed heavy with snow. But even when Akaashi started searching the horizon for other houses, other roads,  _ any _ traces of other human beings, there was nothing but wilderness.

“You really are alone out here,” they observed.

Kuroo flapped his glove-clad hand dismissively. “Well, you know, I needed the space before I really got a handle on my powers. And everyone I knew when I was mortal is long gone.”

His town was deceptively casual. Akaashi tilted their head and fixed their gaze on Kuroo. “You never get lonely?”

Kuroo opened his mouth to answer - and then his eyes bulged open as a slushy, wet ball of snow smacked directly into his lips.

“BOKUTO,” he said.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT,” said Bokuto, who was a few feet ahead, facing them, with slush dripping off his hands.

“BOKUTO KOUTAROU,” said Kuroo, and bent to gather up a handful of snow. “THIS IS WAR.”

Bokuto cackled and dodged behind a tree - just in time to avoid Kuroo’s hard-packed missile. Akaashi stepped off to the side, swiping up their own fistful of snow. The back of Kuroo’s ridiculous hair would make a perfect target-

“Wait! Truce!” Bokuto held up his bare hands and waded out from behind his tree. Kuroo paused, eyes narrow with calculation. “If we’re doing this - no alliances. It’s gotta be fair. Every person for themself. Unless it’s me and Kuroo. Or me and Akaashi.”

Kuroo and Akaashi exchanged a look blazing with challenge, and then a smirk crawled across Kuroo’s face like a slime mold. “Deal.”

“And  _ no magic powers!” _ Bokuto added sternly, shooting Kuroo an accusing look. “That means I won’t turn into an owl, and you won’t - you won’t  _ do your thing! _ Cause that’s unfair.”

Kuroo grinned his Cheshire-cat grin, and if some of his snowballs happened to whistle unnaturally quickly through the the crisp, clear air, well, Akaashi never had quite enough evidence to prove it.

It wasn’t until the shadows were stretching long over the snowy foothills that they gave up on the snowball fight and tramped back home, Kuroo’s and Akaashi’s noses red with cold, Bokuto as fresh and golden as ever. Not that the place would help warm them up - it was  _ cold _ in Kuroo’s house, which Akaashi mumbled to him as they stamped the snow off their boots and Bokuto prised open the door where the snow had blown up against it.

Kuroo airily waved off the complaint. “Only in the rooms where there isn’t a fire.”

“So, all the rooms but the living room!” Bokuto supplied helpfully.

“That’s only the kitchen and the upstairs,” Kuroo pointed out. “Besides, it’s warmer with three people here.”

Akaashi was unconvinced that Kuroo wasn’t just making up nonsense, but it was rather difficult to hold a grudge against someone who made them roast beef soaked in thick brown gravy, and mashed potatoes so fluffy Akaashi could comfortably fall asleep on them that night, and carrots dripping with caramel and butter, and gingerbread and ribbon candy and tiny biscuits filled with raspberry that burst with flavor in Akaashi’s mouth.

Especially afterwards, once full dark had fallen through the windows and tiny flames out of Kuroo’s fingers had rekindled the fire to a cheerful crackle. Akaashi and Kuroo were sharing the knitted blanket on the sofa, the silence between them easy and comfortable as they passed a little bottle of brandy back and forth. Bokuto, sprawled out on his back on the rug next to the hearth, was fiddling with the gift Kuroo had made him - a mystifying set of wooden pieces that, when fitted together just right, formed a sphere. The thing would probably keep him occupied for months.

“Kuroo,” Akaashi said quietly. Kuroo glanced up at them, lashes long and dusky over his high cheekbones in the firelight. “Thank you for this.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Kuroo told them sincerely, and patted their shoulder. “And I’m sorry that you got so battered in the snowball fight.”

“No, you aren’t,” Akaashi muttered.

“You’re right, I’m not,” Kuroo agreed, crooked smile twining around his words.

“My favorite part was when Kuroo shoved snow down Akaashi’s jacket,” Bokuto put in.

Akaashi rolled their eyes as Kuroo snorted a laugh. “You’re such a child.”

Bokuto pouted at them. “Hey, stop talking like that. I’m older than you, remember?”

“Maybe when you start acting like it,” Akaashi mumbled. “And it’s only a few decades.”

_ “It would count even if it were only a year!” _

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Kuroo said smugly. “I’m clearly the most mature person here.”

“You  _ kids,” _ Akaashi sighed.

Bokuto clicked one piece of wood into the puzzleball, and then muttered a soft  _ “darn” _ as another was pushed out. Outside the windows, the wind whipped and howled around the eaves, but inside - Kuroo had been right, it really was warmer with three people.

“You guys are probably leaving tonight, aren’t you?” Kuroo asked.

He sounded wistful.

On the rug, Bokuto paused, and then hopped to his feet and dropped the puzzleball onto the center table. He thumped down onto the sofa next to Kuroo, tugging the blanket over his own legs and plopping his head down on Kuroo’s shoulder.

“Hey now - don’t you two get all emotional on me,” Kuroo protested, even as he turned to press his nose into Bokuto’s hair. “I’m alright, you know-”

“You know,” said Akaashi, “for someone of your intelligence-”

“Hold up, did you just admit I’m  _ intelligent-” _

“You really are very obtuse, sometimes.”

On his other side, Bokuto started chuckling. Kuroo looked mock wounded and honestly puzzled. “Hey now, Keiji, that’s very rude of you-”

“Bokuto,” Akaashi said around Kuroo, and for once, Bokuto caught Akaashi’s hint exactly.

Both of them leaned in, in perfect sync, to plant a gentle kiss on each of Kuroo’s cheeks.

As Akaashi drew back, Kuroo’s mouth formed a tiny, shell-shocked  _ o. _

For a moment, all three of them were silent.

“Well,” said Akaashi, “we’re out of space in the book, you know.”

Kuroo glanced at Bokuto, who was brimming with a delighted grin, and turned towards Akaashi, pushing his hair out of his face so he could examine them with both curious eyes. “So… What do we do now, then?”

His voice was tentative, uncertain.

Akaashi allowed themself a very small smile.

* * *

_ December 26th, 5:45 A.M. _

Akaashi wasn’t generally a morning person, but they woke with the grey light before dawn the next morning, flashing from deep sleep into full wakefulness in a split second. For a moment, they lay frozen, and then they sat up, searching for what had disturbed them.

They slept in the loft over their back room these days, and this morning, it was quiet, still. Old draperies hung down the walls, and the floor was piled with a jumbled mess of cushions and pillows and thick, soft blankets. Akaashi had woken up in the same loft, more or less, for centuries, but this morning, something was different.

Akaashi looked down to their side.

Right. That was it.

Bokuto was sprawled out like an oversized starfish, drool oozing from one corner of his gaping mouth to form a wet spot on the pillow. And curled into his side, breathing lighter and more quickly next to Bokuto’s noisy half-snores, was Kuroo’s dark, tousled head of hair.

As Akaashi watched, Kuroo mumbled in his sleep and pressed himself closer to Bokuto. Bokuto whuffed in surprise, and then his eyelids fluttered open. He peered up at Akaashi. “Keiji?” he slurred, voice rough.

“Shh,” Akaashi told him. “It’s early.”

“Okay,” Bokuto said sleepily. He blinked a few times, and then, with great effort, he lifted his arm and shifted it down so he could curl his fingers around Akaashi’s pinky on the blanket. His eyelids drooped shut, and, almost instantly, his breathing evened out again.

Akaashi allowed this for a moment. Then they disentangled their finger from Bokuto’s grip. They slid out from under the heap of blankets, crept down the ladder to avoid waking Kuroo too, and petted Marpet with their foot as they padded over to the kitchenette.

Before long, Akaashi’s peppermint tea was steeping on the old oak table and the water was simmering in the kettle for Bokuto’s cocoa later. It sent something of a delicious thrill through them, to realize that now they could learn things like what Kuroo liked to drink in the mornings, and how he looked in pajamas, and whether or not his posture was really as awful as Akaashi had always imagined. They’d need to get another chair for the old oak table, too, and teach Kuroo how to vacuum Marpet without irritating it.

Akaashi sat down to write a letter to Yukie, old-fashioned like they’d been doing for nearly a millennium, and soon lost themself in their flowing script. The rosy new sun was soaking through the front windows of the shop by the time the loft started making noises - first Kuroo’s low voice, then Bokuto’s louder one, rising in indignance at something Kuroo had said. Quiet snickers, and then a thump and a startled  _ oof. _ More thumps, and creaking floorboards. A screech of laughter (definitely not Bokuto’s), that quickly broke down into helpless giggles. Then the laughter cut off, and Akaashi caught a sigh of happiness, a wet smack of Bokuto’s favorite sloppy variety.

Akaashi smiled to themself.

A few minutes later, Bokuto came tumbling down the ladder. He tripped on the last step, went down in a heap, and sprang back up without breaking stride. “Mornin’, Keiji!” He planted a kiss on Akaashi’s cheek as he bounded past and into the pantry.

Kuroo followed soon after, looking slightly more rumpled and distinctly more smiley than when Akaashi had last seen him. “Your boyfriend’s a menace,” he told Akaashi, jerking a thumb towards the pantry.

“He’s your boyfriend too, now,” Akaashi deadpanned. “Don’t try to shunt all that off on me.”

Kuroo snorted. “Okay, fair.”

In the pantry, there was a clatter and a surprised shout. Akaashi and Kuroo both froze. “I’m okay!” came the holler, and in tandem, they both relaxed.

“I love him so much,” Kuroo said suddenly, with feeling.

“Me too,” Akaashi sighed.

They reached for their tea, and then frowned when they found it cold. Absorbed in their letter, they hadn’t noticed the passage of time.

“Oh - I got you.” Kuroo took the mug in his hands, furrowed his brow, and then handed it back, piping hot.

“Thanks.” Akaashi accepted the mug and sipped carefully.

“You’re welcome,” said Kuroo, oozing smugness.

“You’re going to be intolerable about that, aren’t you,” Akaashi muttered, and Kuroo just snickered.

It turned out that Kuroo liked coffee, the stronger the better, but since Akaashi refused to keep caffeine in the same house as Bokuto, he settled for filching sips of Bokuto’s cocoa behind his back. The three of them slowly drifted into the shop proper, and Akaashi pulled out their spare stool for Kuroo to perch on while they worked on sorting the latest crop of shedded dragon scales that Konoha - a rough, narrow-faced dragon rider friend of theirs who spent more time hatching giant eggs than interacting with human beings these days - had brought them.

Bokuto pattered around the shop, fiddling with bottles and organizing satchels of herbs into his own haphazard system. As usual, he was wearing nothing but his pants - the morning chill never seemed to affect him.

“He doesn’t much like wearing shirts, does he,” Kuroo observed. “You let him walk around the shop half-naked all the time?”

Akaashi wrapped their hands around their mug, soaking in its warmth. “He tends to get tangled up in shirts when he transforms. And… It draws in the customers.”

When Kuroo didn’t respond, Akaashi glanced over at him and raised a questioning eyebrow.

Kuroo put down Bokuto’s mug. Leaned back in his chair. Put his arms behind his head. Turned to look right back at Akaashi, with a wicked smirk curling around his lips.

“Is that  _ really _ why, Keiji?”

Akaashi opened their mouth, closed it again, and frantically willed away the flush rising in their cheeks. No use - Kuroo started sniggering, and Akaashi groaned. “Would you  _ shut up-” _

As if the universe didn’t have enough mortification in store for them already, Bokuto heard Kuroo’s snorty laughter and trotted over. “Hey, what’s so funny?”

He planted his hands on his hips, and before Akaashi could stop themself, their gaze dropped to the V of Bokuto’s hipbones where they disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. An ungodly snort tore itself from Kuroo’s nose, and Akaashi put their head down on the wood counter.

_ “Hey!” _ Bokuto repeated, massive eyebrows drawing together in a frown.  _ “What’s funny?” _

“Nothing, Bokuto,” Akaashi sighed, as Kuroo continued to cackle next to them.


End file.
